How far out does a piece of music have to be, before we call it "strange"? If it's recognisable as music, then is it really "strange" at all?

Or, as some ancient Roman put it (any classics majors out there who can do the original Latin?) "I am a man, and nothing human is alien to me."

But enough of this hair-splitting. My vote goes to a scratchy 10 inch LP record on the Decca Label called "Guitars of Africa". (Field recordings, made in the 1950s by Hugh Tracey.) I bought it at Collet's record shop - where are you now, Gill? - back in 1962 and it's been delighting and inspiring me ever since.

Why?

Well, because here was a bunch of people with few assets, and several handicaps (like cheapo guitars, and clapped out strings), throwing EVERYTHING they had into the music. And having a good time while doing it.

Some of them - for example, Jean Bosco Mwenda - were producing music of immense subtlety, while others were just belting out a basic chord chord sequence and singing a simple melody over the top. But they all played with an exuberance that I found totally irresistible (and still do).

I only ever learned one of the tunes on that record up to performance standard, and I don't do that very often. But whenever I'm sitting in on a session, or doing a gig, I always try to give whatever I'm playing the same total commitment that those African players poured into Hugh Tracey's microphone. (And sometimes, when the spirits are smiling on me, it works.)

Wassail!